


Rescue My Heart

by simplyollie



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Amira and Matteo are roommates because i said so, Angst, Coming Out, David being smooth, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hanna and Jonas are together because i love them, I’ll add more tags later, M/M, Matteo being awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:17:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyollie/pseuds/simplyollie
Summary: Matteo continued to stare up at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded by how beautiful the boy before him was, before realising how fucking stupid he must’ve looked. “R-right,” he stuttered awkwardly, fumbling with the papers before pulling one out and handing it to the boy. “Sorry.”“Cute late guy” just smiled knowingly at him, taking the paper from Matteo instantly, their fingers brushing slightly.Jesus fucking christ, that smile could cure cancer, Matteo thought as they continued to stare at each other.or, a Theatre AU where Matteo is assistant directing a play with Amira and the guy who’s playing the lead can’t seem to leave Matteo’s mind.(Originally called Catharsis, but I’m indecisive so I changed it).





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this instead of working on Let’s Fall Apart, and I’m not even sorry.
> 
> Also, warning for slightly transphobia and homophobic slurs. 
> 
> And I apologise for shitty writing it’s nearly 3am

“You’re late.” 

 

Matteo sighed as he fumbled with his clipboard, rolling his eyes at Amira’s glare from the empty stage. 

 

“It’s 2:30, you said 2:30—I’m on time.” 

 

Amira scoffed as she gathered her own papers, making her way down the stairs and to the first row of seats in the auditorium. “On time is late.” 

 

Matteo fell unceremoniously into one of the seats, dropping his bag at his feet before staring up at the ceiling. He still didn’t know why he agreed to do this—maybe it was to get out of the apartment for a while, or maybe because it seemed like an interesting thing to do. Though, it was mostly because Amira wouldn’t stop harassing him and he knew he needed an extracurricular activity to do considering he was only taking three classes at the moment. So here he was, helping Amira direct a play. 

 

“When’s everyone getting here,” he mumbled, rolling his head to the side to stare at Amira. 

 

“In an hour, so we need to hurry,” she was frantically shuffling through her papers, making sure she had enough audition forms. “Do you have the scripts?” 

 

With a sigh, Matteo reached into his bag and pulled out the big stack of scripts he’d had to print out. He slammed them onto the makeshift table Amira had set up, staring curiously at the large print that made up the title— _ The Crucible by Arthur Miller _ . 

 

“So, what’s this play supposed to be about,” he asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t stayed up all night reading it. “Witches?” 

 

“The Salem Witch Trials,” Amira answered absentmindedly as she got out her laptop, flicking through the short powerpoint they had created for the meeting today. “It’s really interesting, and it’d probably be helpful if the assistant director had read the play.” 

 

Matteo only shrugged, leaning back in his chair again and studying the intricate designs on the ceiling—they were really interesting, he noticed. He’d been noticing a lot of things since he stopped smoking so much—like how his Sociology teacher got distracted easily, or how Microbiology actually wasn’t as hard as he made it out to be—it was actually really interesting. Jonas would hum along contentedly whenever he brought this up, smiling slightly at how amazed Matteo could get by the smallest things. They had spent so much time last year high off their asses that it was surprising that they actually enjoyed being sober. If Matteo was being completely honest, he liked it here. It was peaceful, beautiful, enduring almost. He had only been to the theatre once, when he was 10 and his mom took him to see Hamlet. He didn’t understand it at the time, but when his dad left his mom went out and bought a copy of the play before disappearing into her room for days on end. Matteo had found that copy not too long before he himself moved out—he read it all in one night, and had been re-reading it since, taking in every little detail, every line his mother highlighted, every annotation she left, everything that reminded him of her. There was one quote in particular that had always stuck with Matteo, one that had been highlighted and circled, surrounded by multiple tiny scribbles:

 

_ “God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another…”  _

 

Maybe it was the fact that it was his mom’s favourite quote, or the way it sounded and the way it automatically clicked within Matteo—or perhaps it was due to the sick and twisted reason that he could empathise with what Hamlet was saying to Ophelia. He had hidden from himself for so long, making himself into an entirely different person despite the fact that he was who he was, and no matter how many facades he put up, he would always be him. His therapist used to have to constantly tell him that people didn’t hate him simply for existing. It was something that took a while to click in Matteo’s muddled mind, because he had convinced himself from such a young age that if he opened himself up to people, they’d hate everything they saw. He’d created so many different people and personalities for him to be around different people, because it was so important to Matteo that everybody liked him, it was so important what people thought of him, what everyone else’s opinions were—his didn’t matter because if they were the same as others, then nobody would hate him. In the long run, that was one of the main reasons why he now had a therapist. Not that he was complaining, he loved Doctor Novak, she was the sweetest person and probably the perfect therapist for Matteo, if he was being honest. They never talked about his mother, though. He didn’t want to, and she didn’t push him, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it’d be important for her to know, to know of the true impact she’s had on his life, to know the words that had been drilled into his brain ( _ and would stay there forever _ ) because of this woman. But he didn’t talk about her—or the copy of Hamlet—he never wanted to, and he was sure he never would. He’d keep his mother and Hamlet to himself, for late night and early morning thoughts only. Nobody knew about Hamlet, and Matteo didn’t plan on telling anybody. It was his and his mom’s, it would always be theirs and nobody else was going to take it from him.  _ Nobody.  _

 

“Matteo,” Amira’s irritated voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you going to help at all, or just sit there?” 

 

He sighed long and low, running a hand through his—already messy—hair. “What d’you want me to do?” 

 

Amira raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief, and all Matteo could offer in response was a shrug. “Go bring the screen down for the powerpoint—the button should be backstage, to the right.”

 

Lazily, Matteo trudged up the stairs to the stage, running his fingers lightly along the red curtains that concealed the rest of the stage. It was dark backstage, but it was open and held a sort of sense of security to it. Matteo had never liked being on stage, being the centre of people’s attention—he had taken a theatre class in high school one year, just for the easy A, and he hated it. Hated the way that everyone’s eyes were trained on him, waiting for him to slip up, to laugh condescendingly at his mistakes. He had much preferred sitting in the tech booth when they did their Spring play for the class—thankfully his teacher hadn’t made him perform—sitting in the booth was so much more his style. He didn’t have to worry about being judged or watched, he knew what he was doing and he did it well. ( _ And maybe that was the real reason Matteo has agreed to help out with play, but Amira didn’t need to know that _ ). 

 

Once Matteo had found the button, he made his way back to Amira, jumping down from the stage childishly, like he was 13 instead of 19. He collapsed next to Amira once again, grabbing the audition and backstage sign up papers and thumbed through them absentmindedly. 

 

“It’s nice back there,” he got a hum from Amira in response. “Really big, we could fit a table or two for props.” 

 

“A prop table, yeah,” Amira said, sounding surprised that Matteo had formed a helpful coherent thought. “I think we did that in the high school production.” 

 

Matteo only nodded, skimming over the forms in front of him: What previous acting experience do you have? Do you have any special skills worth mentioning? What days will you not be available to come to rehearsals?

 

There was a small sigh from beside him, and then Amira was gently pulling the papers out of his hands. “Matteo,” he looked up at her serious tone. “I know I pretty much forced you to be here, but if you’re going to do this I need to know that you’ll put in the effort, that you won’t just half ass everything and stand by while the rest of us do the work.” 

 

Despite the fact that Amira had every right to be asking him this, ( _ she had known him in high school after all, and he was a mess then _ ), it still hurt to hear the words come out of her mouth. Sure, he had a reputation for being a slacker, just being Jonas’ double that was high all the time—but he was getting better now, he was getting professional help, and sometimes he wished his friends could see that. He tried to keep his expression guarded, but he could tell by the small frown that formed on Amira’s face he hadn’t succeeded. His eyes flicked down to the ground and then back up to Amira, his gaze tracing the small lace design that was peaking out along the edge of Amira’s hijab—it was a pretty, intricate design and Matteo chose to focus on that. 

 

“I know that I’m a shitty person. No, I am–” Matteo added quickly as Amira tried to interrupt. “But, I’m trying to be better, and I  _ want  _ to do this, I know I do. I can’t promise I’ll always be present…mentally,” Amira nodded slowly at this. “But I’ll try, I promise I will.” 

 

Amira smiled smally, leaning forward slightly and grasping his hands. “I know you will Matteo, and that’s all I ask.” 

 

Matteo looked away, smiling bashfully as Amira enduringly patted the top of his hand before pulling away. “Now, let’s get to work, people will be here soon.” 

  
  


* * *

 

Mia arrived just as Matteo and Amira had started getting everything ready—considering she was the stage manager and had the forms for the tech crew—and shortly after more people kept showing up. Matteo hadn’t expected much, he didn’t think they’d get a lot of people considering it was entirely student produced and their school wasn’t known for performing arts. However, he was pleasantly surprised when quite a lot of people showed up, not an alarming amount, but more than Matteo had originally thought and enough to make it seem more professional. It did mean, on the other hand, that Matteo was going to have to stand up on the stage with Amira in front of at least 30 or so people—which was not something he wanted to do  _ ever _ . Amira had assured him that he wouldn’t have to talk, just stand there so people could know who he was for future references, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

 

He held his clipboard in an ironclad grip as he stood awkwardly beside Amira, rocking back and forth on his heels as Amira got everyone’s attention.

 

“Hello,” Amira greeted warmly and loudly, her voice echoing on the stage. “Okay, everyone’s here for the meeting about the play, correct?” A murmur of yes’s. “Great, let’s get started then. So, I’m Amira, I’m going to be—”

 

Amira was cut off due to the doors opening forcefully, the sound echoing throughout the otherwise silent auditorium, gaining everyone’s attention. 

 

A boy Matteo vaguely recognised from his Sociology class walked in, his head was ducked down and he had a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry I’m late,” he said quietly, and Matteo couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was the closer he got. 

 

“It’s no problem,” Amira responded kindly. “We just started, so you didn’t miss anything.”

 

She started over, introducing herself once again as the director, and Matteo looked awkwardly down at the forms he had on the clipboard, flipping through them absentmindedly, Amira’s voice a quiet drone in the background. 

 

“And this here is Matteo,” a hand on his shoulder startled him back into focus, the clipboard slipping from his grasp slightly. Matteo quickly regained his grip, clearing his throat awkwardly as Amira sent him an amused smile. “He’s going to be your assistant director.” 

 

Matteo waved smally at the audience of people, offering an awkward smile as he caught the eyes of “cute late guy” watching him. God, he was so fucking weird and awkward, no wonder he didn’t have a boyfriend yet.

 

“...you can ask him anything as well, and you’ll be getting the audition forms from him–which you’ll turn in the day of auditions–and Mia over here, our stage manager, has the backstage sign up sheets…” 

 

Matteo let Amira continue with introductions, standing idly by her side and staring down at the stage floor—the feeling of people watching him was a like a nagging itch in the back of his mind, but he knew it was inevitable considering he was standing on a stage in front of everyone. It might have been 5 or so minutes, though it could have been forever in Matteo’s mind, but soon enough Matteo was able to make his escape into the audience, ( _ and away from most people’s staring _ ), as he manned the laptop for Amira’s presentation on the play. 

 

“As most of you know, we will be performing Arthur Miller’s  _ The Crucible  _ this year, which is going to be really fun, we’re going to have a lot of room for creativity with the set–Mia’s already got a few ideas, but if you have any don’t be afraid to let us know,” Amira spoke enthusiastically.

 

Matteo wanted to pay attention, he really did, but he’d heard Amira practicing the presentation multiple times already—besides, he’d much rather choose to focus on the fact that he was only sitting one seat away from “cute late guy” who he couldn’t help but keep glancing at out of the corner of his eye. And maybe Matteo was imagining things, or maybe it was because he hadn’t dated anyone since high school ( _ back when he was still pretending to be straight _ ), but he couldn’t help but notice that “cute late guy” was also glancing over at him. Okay, so he probably was imagining it, but it was always a nice thought—the cute guy you couldn’t stop thinking about was also possibly thinking about you. What would he be thinking about Matteo, though? Probably nothing good. He probably thought Matteo looked like shit—and he did, he would admit that. While he had started showering regularly—per Amira’s  _ insistent _ request—he still always managed to look like he had just woken up from a 36 hour nap, ( _ something that sounded really appealing to Matteo right now _ ). 

 

Matteo zoned back in just in time to change the slide for Amira, leaning forward to rest his chin on the table as he listened to Amira discuss the different characters in the play—he wasn’t going to do himself any good by overthinking about the cute guy next to him. Amira’s voice was soothing and he let it wash over him, enjoying the excitement that was clear in her tone as she explained all the different and intricate details about John Proctor’s character—Matteo’s favorite, if he was being honest. He’d read a lot that people loved Abby, and while she’d be an interesting character to study or even play, Matteo didn’t see the appeal. She was a lying manipulative bitch who didn’t care about anyone but herself and her own interests—John, on the other hand, was as honest as he could be, ( _ considering everything _ ), and he really did try to do the right thing; for his wife and kids, for the rest of the people in town. Matteo was honestly quite frustrated with the end of the play; why should Abby get away with all the shit she pulled, with all the deaths she caused? What about the people in town, all the people that lost family, all the people that were wrongfully hanged just because they weren’t going to lie about committing witchcraft? Matteo wanted to know more about what happened after—with John Proctor’s family, with Elizabeth. Was she hanged after she had her baby? Were her children going to have to grow up without parents? And what about Paris, does he ever realise how wrong Abby was, all the chaos that she caused? Matteo supposed he’d never know the answers to his questions, he didn’t know anybody who’d be willing to have a serious conversation about it with him. ( _ Okay, Amira would, but Matteo didn’t want her to know how interested in this whole play ordeal he actually was _ ). 

 

Matteo was pulled from his thoughts by an obnoxious voice interrupting Amira explaining how the auditions and casting would work. 

 

“Wait, so like, what if you’re not really a girl or a dude? How would it work then?” 

 

Matteo frowned at their question, sitting up and turning around to face the direction of the voice. 

 

“What do you mean?” Amira’s voice held a neutral curiosity to it, but anyone who knew her would know that she was irritated.

 

The guy laughed under his breath, muttering something to his friend. ( _ He was clearly high _ ). “Like, what if you were born as a girl and you’re like, what’s it called, fucking trans or whatever,” Matteo’s confused frown turned to one of annoyance, and he rolled his eyes. “What would you play then? A boy or a girl?” 

 

The guy’s friend muttered something else, and the pair burst into obnoxious laughter before suddenly cutting off, and staring blankly out at the stage as if waiting for an answer to their fucking dumbass question. Matteo was ready to just turn back around and file the assholes away in his brain, to remember them for auditions and mark them as absolute no’s—but it was then that he noticed how fucking terrified “cute late guy” looked, the kind of terrified that Matteo felt when his dad had screamed about the neighbors being “absolute faggots,” and that they “deserved to be fucking shot.” 

 

“If you identify as male, then you’ll play a male. If you identify as female, then you’ll play a female,” Matteo explained loudly and irritably, shaking his head at the boys’. “It doesn’t matter what you were born as, it’s not that fucking hard to understand.”

 

He turned back around, angrily changing the slide on the presentation before continuing. “And if you think that this is just some extracurricular where you can show up and do nothing, then I’d suggest you leave now, because we don’t have time for your bullshit.”

 

The auditorium was completely silent, and despite the fact that Matteo could feel everyone’s eyes on him, he kept his stoic composure and gestured at Amira to continue—which she did happily with a small smirk on her face. Matteo felt his own smirk develop on his face as he heard the two boys getting up and leaving, slumping back into his seat triumphantly when the auditorium doors slammed closed. 

 

Ten minutes later, the last of the students were mingling in the auditorium, reading over the audition forms and discussing what parts they’d like to play, and whether or not they thought they’d get a part. Amira and Mia were off to the side, talking with a girl named Sara, someone Matteo vaguely recognised from one of his classes, and Matteo was still in his seat from the presentation. He was just packing up the last of the papers when somebody approached him, clearing their throat awkwardly. Matteo glanced up and immediately all previous thoughts if greetings were gone as he met the beautifully enrapturing eyes of “cute late guy.”

 

Holy shit, he was even hotter up close. 

 

“Sorry, but I didn’t get one of the forms,” he said smoothly, gesturing towards the papers in Matteo’s hands. 

 

Matteo continued to stare up at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded by how beautiful the boy before him was, before realising how fucking stupid he must’ve looked. “R-right,” he stuttered awkwardly, fumbling with the papers before pulling one out and handing it to the boy. “Sorry.” 

 

“Cute late guy” just smiled knowingly at him, taking the paper from Matteo instantly, their fingers brushing slightly. 

 

_ Jesus fucking christ, that smile could cure cancer _ , Matteo thought as they continued to stare at each other. 

 

“I, uh, also had a question,” the boy broke the silence, licking his lips quickly as he looked Matteo up and down. 

 

“Yeah?” Matteo breathed out lamely. 

 

The boy’s lips quirked up slightly, “if we audition and don’t get a part, could we also do backstage?” 

 

Matteo’s mind was racing and it took everything in him not to just stare at this boy’s perfect lips, but this was a question he knew the answer to and a moment for him to not look as stupid as he felt. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat in what he hoped was a casual way. “There’s a box you can check on the form that states that.” 

 

They boy’s small smile turned into a full fledged smirk at that, and he nodded his head. “Great, thanks,” he folded the paper carefully in half, and Matteo watched, mesmerised. “I suppose I’ll see you at auditions then… _ Matteo _ .” 

 

Matteo’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched the boy walk smoothly away, his mind completely void of anything except the way Matteo’s name had sounded on his lips, the beautiful eyes, and the cocky smirk. Matteo didn’t like the feeling that was building in his chest, or the fact that his cheeks were growing hotter the more he thought about the boy’s lips, or the fact that he was so enraptured by this boy and he didn’t even fucking know his name. He hadn’t felt this way since his stupid crush on Jonas during high school—and that had turned out to be fucking ridiculous anyway. Matteo had nothing against the fact that he was attracted to guys, he would fully admit how fucking gone he was for this random boy that he didn’t even know. No, it wasn’t that, it was just the fact that of fucking course Matteo had to notice the one guy that was clearly out of his league—and someone that would most likely end up being straight anyway. It always went that way for Matteo—he’d develop a persistent crush, and they’d either be way out of his league or end up being straight. It was fine though, he was used to it. ( _ It didn’t seem to stop Matteo from being completely enraptured by these people again and again though _ ). 

 

“He was cute,” Amira commented teasingly as she came to stand by Matteo. 

 

All he could manage was to weakly flip her off before numbly beginning to pack up the last of the forms again. Fuck, it was going to be a long week. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo dropped his bag by the front door, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he took Amira gently by the shoulders. “We both have everything, we’re both going to do fine, auditions will be great, and everyone will love you, okay?” 
> 
> Amira closed her eyes and let out a long breath before nodding, offering Matteo a small and grateful smile. “Right, okay, I’m okay, we’ve got this.”
> 
> “Yes, we do,” Matteo agreed as he turned Amira around and pushed her towards the door. “Now go, or I’ll be late for sociology and Jonas will call a search party.” 
> 
>  
> 
> or, auditions are held, and Matteo is even more enamored with this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another chapter, please enjoy!!  
> (Also slight warning for homophobia, and I’m sorry that I made Carlos and Abdi seem really shit, they aren’t, I promise!)
> 
> Also, I made it so Matteo’s dad is still living in Berlin, just not with his mum anymore.

Matteo was sprawled out across Hanna and Jonas’ couch, absentmindedly accepting chips from Jonas every now and then as he flipped through his book for literature— _Republic_ by Plato. It was boring the shit out of him, but he only had a few more pages to go, and it wasn’t like the professor made him participate in the discussions, as long as he paid attention and took notes, his professor left him alone. Amira wasn’t home, which meant that Matteo was being forced to stay at Hanna and Jonas’ so he would actually do his assignments, which meant that him and Jonas were now sprawled out across the living room while Hanna monitored them. It was funny, Matteo thought, how everything was now. Back in high school, it would’ve been Jonas overseeing Hanna’s work, while Matteo pretended to do his and Jonas pretended to not notice—Matteo never would’ve thought Hanna would be the one making him do his homework, ( _and he never thought he’d actually do it_ ).

 

Matteo slammed his book closed loudly, causing Jonas to jump which elicited a small huff of laughter from Hanna. “Done,” he announced proudly.

 

“Already,” Jonas groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he buried his face in Matteo’s leg. “Since when did you get better at school than me.”

 

“Since he’s been living with Amira,” Hanna said amusedly as she came over to sit by Jonas, leaning her head on his shoulder. “She’d probably kick him out if he didn’t put any effort in.”

 

Matteo let out a small laugh, curling into the corner of the couch and hugging a pillow to his chest. “She threatened to do that once,” he muttered tiredly. “Kick me out if I didn’t start actively participating in life.”

 

It had been an empty threat, and they both knew it, but Matteo had listened anyway. It had been at the beginning of the school year, and Matteo hadn’t been doing good—he barely left his room, he didn’t bother with basic hygiene, he didn’t eat, and he barely got more than a few hours of sleep each week. Everyone had warned Amira about Matteo’s habits before they moved in together, but she hadn’t budged. She’d stayed by his side for most of it, and aggressively yet gently helped him get his life back together. ( _Amira had also been the person to recommend Doctor Novak to him, which is a big plus in Matteo’s opinion_ ).

 

“Speaking of actively participating in life,” Hanna began, reaching over and shaking Matteo’s leg. “Mia says you’re helping direct a play.”

 

Matteo rolled his eyes as he let out a long breath, of course Mia would tell Hanna, they tell each other everything. It’s not like Matteo had a problem with people knowing he was assistant directing a play, none of his friends would care and he knew that, but Jonas had just started hanging out with a couple of new guys from one of his classes and Matteo still didn’t know how to feel about them. Carlos and Abdi were great, Matteo was sure of that, but they always made fun of Matteo, and whether it was jokingly or not, it annoyed the shit out of him. ( _And up until he had properly come out to them, they had always made gay jokes as well_ ). Matteo knew that them finding out about him directing a play would only fuel the fire and lead to more jokes—more jokes that Matteo would pretend to laugh at, jokes that he would pretend didn’t actually get to him sometimes—something he would never tell Jonas, because then it would seem like Matteo didn’t want Jonas to hang out with other people, which wasn’t true at all. So Matteo kept quiet and sucked it up when he did hang out with them, and when he didn’t he’d usually hang with the girls or simply sit alone in his room re-reading Hamlet for the millionth time.

 

“Nice, Luigi,” Jonas’ voice cut through Matteo’s thoughts. “You always were better at the backstage stuff than me.”

 

Hanna smiled sweetly at Jonas, quickly kissing him on the cheek, before directing her smile up at Matteo. “Can we come see it, when is it?”

 

“Well considering we haven’t even had auditions yet, I don’t know when it is,” Matteo laughed tiredly at Hanna’s small pout. “But yes, you can come and see it.”

 

Hanna let out a small cheer, grinning brightly up at him before she buried her head back in Jonas’ shoulder. Matteo smiled fondly at them, glad to see them together and happy after everything that had happened in high school. ( _All of it was Matteo’s fault, but he chose to push that back for late night thoughts_ ). The pair deserved to be happily living together, just enjoying each other’s company and not worrying about what had happened between them in the past.

 

After throwing a cushion at the couple, Matteo pushed himself up from the couch, just barely dodging Jonas throwing it back at him in retaliation.

 

“I gotta go and get groceries, or else I _will_ be kicked out,” he said, offering Hanna and Jonas a small salute. “Don’t forget to use condoms.”

 

Ignoring Hanna’s loud protests and Jonas’ even louder cackling, Matteo made his way out of the apartment with a genuine smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

 

“Matteo.”

 

“Amira,” he drawled, a teasing imitation of Amira’s voice.

 

She sent him an unamused look as she gathered her belongings together. “Are you ready?”

 

Matteo sighed, stuffing the last piece of sandwich into his mouth before he proceeded to put his coat on.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled around the bread.

 

Amira rolled her eyes, “do you have everything.”

 

He simply hummed in response, double checking he had his microbiology notebook and literature homework before zipping his bag back up.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Matteo dropped his bag by the front door, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he took Amira gently by the shoulders. “We both have everything, we’re both going to do fine, auditions will be great, and everyone will love you, okay?”

 

Amira closed her eyes and let out a long breath before nodding, offering Matteo a small and grateful smile. “Right, okay, I’m okay, we’ve got this.”

 

“Yes, we do,” Matteo agreed as he turned Amira around and pushed her towards the door. “Now go, or I’ll be late for sociology and Jonas will call a search party.”

 

He wasn’t late for sociology, arriving to class with five minutes to spare, he dropped down by Jonas in their usual seats and immediately buried his head in his arms. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, tossing and turning all night as he replayed the messages he had received from his parents.

 

 

 

 

 

> **Mama:** “19 The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20 idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21 and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.” Galatians 5:19-21
> 
>  
> 
> **Mama:** I love you baby, will I see you at mass this Sunday?
> 
>  
> 
> **Papa:** Are you coming to mass? If so, don’t mention any of that gay nonsense, you know it makes your mother upset.

 

Matteo had lay in bed all night, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the messages over and over, allowing intrusive thoughts to completely take over and hit him like a tidal wave. The problem was that his mum _was_ okay with Matteo being gay, she had told him she’d love him no matter what, as long as he was happy. She had hugged him tightly and they had both cried—then Matteo made her pasta like he used to when he was younger, and they ate in blissful silence. Then Matteo’s father had found out. Matteo’s father had never been a particularly violent person, had simply chosen to drunkenly shout and scream about everything. Every now and then he’d shove Matteo lightly, but that had been as far as he would go before leaving in a fit of anger or passing out on the couch. That night, Matteo had been hit for the first time ever by his father. It was quick and sudden and it fucking hurt—what hurt more, however, was the fact that he didn’t look like he regretted it, the fact that he immediately went to Matteo’s mother to console her, to apologise for Matteo turning out the way he was. Matteo had run the second his father’s attention was away from him, had run straight to Jonas’ and allowed his friend to comfort and console him, allowed him to help forget, ( _he’d never forget_ ). He hadn’t seen his parents since, had only received similar text messages to the ones he got last night, and they always managed to affect him the same way. He hated it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

 

“Dude, you good?” Jonas asked, his hand resting comfortingly on Matteo’s back.

 

Matteo shook his head, lifting his face away from the desk to face Jonas, “I’m fucking tired.”

 

Jonas snorted, though there was no denying the concern clearly written across his face. “Yeah, you look like shit, bro.”

 

“Thanks, that’s what I was going for.”

 

Jonas’ smile doesn’t disappear as he shakes his head in disbelief, “no, but seriously dude, you okay?”

 

Matteo let out a small sigh, pushing himself up so he was leaning on his elbows. “Yeah, Amira’s just really stressed about auditions, which means I’m stressed, which is just making both of us a little crazy.”

 

Jonas’ grin turned into a sympathetic grimace, and he clapped Matteo on the shoulder before leaning back in his seat. “Damn, good luck with that then.”

 

“Yeah,” Matteo mumbled, turning his attention to the professor as he signalled for the class to be quiet.

 

 

 

“I’m, uh, helping Amira direct a play,” Matteo explained quietly, leaning forward on the couch. “We’re holding auditions later today.”

 

Doctor Novak smiled her easily practiced smile, something that was somehow still comforting to Matteo. “That sounds fun,” she said sweetly, glancing down at her notes. “And is theatre something you’re interested in?”

 

Matteo thought about lying, but he knew she’d see right through him. “Uh, yeah. Not so much performing, but more backstage.”

 

“That’s good I’m glad,” she sounded it too, not as if it was simply a rehearsed line she’d said a million times. “You told me you’d been looking for something to do after school.”

 

Matteo simply hummed in response, smiling awkwardly as he stared down at his shoes. Today was a slow day, and they both knew that, so Doctor Novak didn’t push, asked him small and simple questions, told him about how her daughter was doing—normal everyday things that usually made Matteo feel more at ease. She was going to ask him what was on his mind eventually, Matteo knew this, but it didn’t mean he was entirely ready for it. He’d rather just stay in the safe little bubble that was their version of small talk than address his problems head on.

 

She placed her notebook to the side and leaned back slightly, casually. “Something’s in your mind, Matteo. Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

 _No,_ he automatically thought.

 

The problem was that Doctor Novak would accept that answer—she had never been a particularly pushy person, and she respected his boundaries—that’s what he loved about her. She never expected too much from him. However, Matteo knew if he said no and they didn’t talk about it, he would never talk about it until it all built up in his head and spilled over suddenly with an anxiety attack or a depressive episode—and then he’d _have_ to talk about it.

 

“Uh, my parents,” he began quietly, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. “They texted me again, they want me to come to mass this weekend.”

 

Doctor Novak hummed, and Matteo heard her scribble something down in her notebook. “Are you going to go?”

 

Matteo sucked in a sharp breath, holding it for a while before releasing it slowly. “I don’t know, maybe,” he paused, laughing humorlessly. “H-he told me not to ‘mention any of that gay nonsense’ because it makes my mum upset. I mean, a-as if I can just turn it off for one night for his convenience.”

 

“And does it?” Her question threw him off balance for a second, and he simply stared up at her in stunned silence.

 

“Does what?”

 

Doctor Novak sighed and leaned forward, “does you being gay make your mother upset?”

 

Matteo bit his lip, his gaze traveling back to his shoes. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I haven’t seen either of them since my dad found out I was gay.”

 

“You told me when you came out to your mum she was happy,” Matteo nodded. “So do you think this is your father just putting words into her mouth, using her mental health as an excuse to manipulate her feelings about the situation.”

 

“I guess it’s possible,” Matteo sighed, covering his face with his hands for a second before practically collapsing against the couch. “But I don’t want to have to deal with them both at the same time, and for the first time since everything happened.”

 

Doctor Novak nodded, “of course, and that’s perfectly fine. Matteo, I’m not saying you have to go this weekend, but maybe it would be good to talk to your mother, or see her– _just her_ –if you want to sort this out.”

 

“Yeah,” Matteo muttered, and found that he meant it. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

 

* * *

 

 

Amira hit him over the head when he got to the auditorium. “You’re late.”

 

“I know,” he said, settling down into a seat.

 

She sighed sympathetically, her anger immediately vanishing, “How was it?”

 

“Good,” he answered truthfully. “Probably gonna see my mum soon, I just don’t know what time.”

 

Amira adjusted the papers before her, a small smile on her face. “Just let me know ahead of time, in case we have rehearsal.”

 

“I will.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments, each gathering the different papers and forms they’d need, the murmur of other people’s voices washing over them in an almost soothing way.

 

“Alright,” Amira shouted, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s begin—first up, Sara Adamczyk auditioning for the role of Rebecca Nurse.”

 

Sara made her way up onto the stage, her blonde ponytail bouncing with each step. She gripped her script tightly and a nervous smile was plastered on her face. Her eyes met his briefly and Matteo offered her a small smile of his own, one that she kindly returned before glancing back down at her script. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began;

 

“Pray calm yourselves,” her voice was soothing and carried out easily across the auditorium. “I have eleven children, and I am twenty-six times a grandma…”

 

Matteo was exhausted, his head hurt like hell, and his hand was cramping up from all the notes he’d taken. And while Amira was masking how tired she was, Matteo didn’t even bother to try and hide how done he was with auditions. Luckily, they only had more to go.

 

“David Schreibner auditioning for John Proctor.”

 

Matteo immediately perked up from his position laying on the table, his eyes eagerly following “cute late guy”—or David, as Amira had said—as he made his way up onto the stage. He too seemed nervous, but he also held an air of confidence about him that told Matteo he had been born to perform on a stage. He offered the pair a quick and welcome smile before closing his eyes, his stance changing completely as he took on the form of John Proctor.

 

“Spare me! You forget nothing and forgive nothing. Learn charity, woman,” Matteo gripped the arm of his chair tightly, his mouth falling open slightly as he leaned forward, enamored by how perfectly David took on John Proctor, bringing him to life in the exact way Matteo has imagined him when reading the play. “I have gone tiptoe in this house all seven month since she is gone, I have not moved from there to there without seeking to please you, and still a…”

 

By the time David had finished and the entire auditorium has erupted in applause, all Matteo could do was stare at the empty spot on the stage where he stood, his mind doing nothing but replaying David’s performance over and over.

 

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, slowly falling back into his seat.

 

Amira chuckled from beside him, “he’s good, isn’t he?”

 

Good was an understatement, but Matteo just nodded, staring blankly down at his note sheet before promptly circling David’s name multiple times.

 

Amira whispered a quiet, “I think so too,” before standing up and turning around address everyone in the room. “Alright people, the cast list will be posted outside the auditorium doors tomorrow at 3—have a nice day, and I look forward to seeing some of you again!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Leonie for Abigail, definitely,” Matteo muttered, putting a star next to her name.

 

Amira made her way back from the fridge, placing two bottles of water in between them along with a bowl of chips. “Yeah, no doubt, she’s perfect for Abby.”

 

Matteo stared down at his notes carefully, biting his pen before glancing back up at Amira. “Sara’s got potential, but I don’t think for Rebecca Nurse.”

 

“Ya think,” Amira questioned, tilting her head to the side as she glanced down at her own notes. “Who are thinking then?”

 

“What about Mary Warren,” he began slowly, eyes going back down to his scribbled notes on Sara’s audition form. “She just needs a little more help with intensity, but other than that I’d say she could really bring the role to life.”

 

When he glanced back up, Amira was grinning at him widely, a knowing look in her eyes. “Look at you, paying attention and putting in the effort.”

 

He rolled his eyes dramatically, ignoring the warmth in his chest, “whatever. So, do you agree?”

 

She hummed in affirmation, scribbling something down as she absentmindedly grabbed a few chips from the bowl. Matteo leaned back in his seat, grabbing his water from the table and sipping on it slowly as he willed himself not to fall asleep. If he thought auditions were tiring, then picking people for parts was even more exhausting.

 

“What about David?”

 

It took everything in Matteo not to choke his water at Amira’s question. She smirked at him as he awkwardly coughed, trying to conceal the growing blush on his cheeks.

 

“John Proctor?” She questioned innocently.

 

Matteo glanced down at his notes for a second before glancing back up at Amira, her eyebrows raised in silent question.

 

“Definitely,” they agreed simultaneously.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the theatre trope is getting used a lot lately but I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think in the comments!


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